Exile and Return
by Elf Eye
Summary: Part of 'The Nameless One' series (formerly 'Disappearances and Reappearances'). Entire series listed under author Elf Eye.
1. Disappearances

This may actually become a chapter in "The Nameless One."  _DemonicaAngel19 suggested that I fill in the gaps between Mithrandir's visits to check on Legolas/Anomen at Rivendell, and that is what I am trying to do.  If people like it, I will finish it and reconfigure the chapter breaks in "The Nameless One" to fit it in.  Let me know what you folks think._

_Starlit Hope_, as soon as I finish this part of the story, I'll do something about establishing in greater detail the relationship between Legolas and Thranduil after their reunion at Rivendell.

**Disappearances**

Mithrandir had been gone for a month, and sometimes Anomen wished that he could slip away from Rivendell and go off in pursuit of him.  It wasn't that anyone was treating him badly; on the contrary, everyone was most anxious that he be made to feel welcome.  Lord Elrond treated him as a son.  Glorfindel gladly permitted him to join the novice warriors who were training with knives, swords, and bows.  Elladan and Elrohir cheerfully made room for him at the table in the library where each morning they were tutored by Erestor.  (Of course, Anomen grinned to himself, the twins' willingness to share their tutor was not entirely disinterested; they no doubt appreciated the fact that Erestor's attention was now divided amongst three, rather than two, elflings.)  And Arwen worshiped him, while he doted on her in return.  No, the problem was not that he felt unwelcome; instead, he simply was not used to a world in which people expected him to tell them where he was going and when he would be back.

In Greenwood, Anomen had been expected to show up for lessons and weapons-training, but then he had been left to his own devices.  His father had no longer even noticed whether or not he put in an appearance at meals, so he had taken to filching bread, cheese, and fruit from the kitchen and settling down to eat in whatever tree he happened to be climbing at the onset of hunger.  It was only now, under the care of Elrond and Glorfindel and Erestor, that Anomen became aware that it was unusual for an elfling to roam about unmarked and unchecked.  Here, when he strolled back into the Hall after vanishing for the first time, he had been mortified to learn that Glorfindel was out with a patrol searching for him.

            "Elrond," spluttered the usually unflappable Glorfindel the third time this happened, "if Anomen leads me on one more merry chase, I swear I shall fasten a mithril chain around his neck and attach a dwarf-bell to it!"

            Erestor smiled.  "Come now, Glorfindel, an elf-lord who has faced down a balrog should not let a mere elfling rob him of his composure."

            "Yes," agreed Elrond, "I concede that Anomen's habit of vanishing is disconcerting, but surely we can solve this problem without resorting to drastic measures."

            "Alright," muttered Glorfindel darkly, "but if he doesn't shape up soon, then bell him I shall—or, better yet, I'll orc-tie him!"

              "Perhaps," suggested Erestor, "since we know that Anomen has a habit of disappearing, we should simply stop sending out search parties.  If he is missing, we should simply assume that he is safely ensconced in a tree somewhere.  In short, let us cease worrying whenever we cannot find him and merely wait patiently for him to reappear."

            "A millennium ago, I might have concurred," replied Elrond, "but the world has grown treacherous.  Even a grown warrior would not go off without leaving word; surely we cannot let an elfling do so."

            Erestor sighed, "Yet it will be difficult to rein him in.  He was used to looking out for himself even whilst still in Greenwood, and once he left Thranduil's realm he journeyed virtually alone all the way to Imladris, along the way confronting many perils and surmounting many obstacles.  How he must chafe at now being required to give an account of all his comings and goings!"

            "You are right," replied Elrond, "but Anomen must be made to see that it may be needful for an elf to rely upon the wisdom and strength of others.  There was more than a little luck involved in his arrival in Rivendell—not to mention that he had a wizard looking out for him at the end!  Moreover, I have lately received a message from the Lady of the Galadhrim—she had a hand in keeping him safe as well."

            Glorfindel was growing impatient at the talk—he, after all, was the one who had to ride out when Anomen took it into his head to go wandering.

            "Well and good, Elrond.  But how are we to make this elfling see that he should ask permission before wandering off!?"

            "Anomen has only been with us a very little while, Glorfindel.  You cannot expect him to quickly change habits of thinking and behavior that he has relied upon for over a century.  I will, of course, speak with him—

            "Again," grumbled Glorfindel.

            "—speak with him," continued Elrond, unperturbed, "and I believe that gradually he will both see the need for reporting his whereabouts and become accustomed to doing so."

            "Hmmph," snorted Glorfindel.

            "Glorfindel," exclaimed Erestor, "you are taking this too much to heart!"

            "Easy for you to say, Erestor!  Have you ever been bucked off your chair whilst tutoring!?"

            "Glorfindel," laughed Erestor.  "You weren't!?"

            "Aye," admitted Glorfindel, shamefaced now, "I, Glorfindel, balrog-slayer, was thrown by my horse whilst pursuing one errant elfling."

            "Well," declared Elrond, suppressing a smile, "we can't have that happening now, can we?  Erestor, after his lessons tomorrow, please tell Anomen that I wish to speak with him."

            At this very moment the elfling under discussion was trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep.  It should have been easy—after morning lessons and an afternoon spent on archery, swordplay, and horseback riding, Anomen did indeed feel tired.  But he also felt incomplete, as if something had been missing from his day.  As he twisted fretfully, he began to think over the day's events.

            "First I woke up—no, first Elrohir woke me up!"  Elrond had moved Anomen in with the twins, thinking that the elfling would be glad of the company.  Anomen did like the twins very much, of course, and in the beginning was overjoyed at sharing a room with them.  He remembered his first lonely days at Thranduil's Hall, in the enormous room in which he had been dwarfed by oversized furniture.  But after a few days at Rivendell, Anomen realized that over the years his Greenwood room had become his sanctuary.  No one ever came looking for him there; far away from the King's disapproving gaze, he was free to read and daydream.  He couldn't imagine reading and daydreaming in this room.  Elladan would tackle him if he read, and Elrohir would pounce on him if he daydreamed.  One always had to be alert around the twins!  He wouldn't have minded so much if he could have found another place to read and daydream, but he hadn't found such a place—except, he thought wistfully, in the woods.

            Anomen sighed.  In Greenwood, the woods, like his room, had been a sanctuary.  Not only had the woods been a place where he could continue with his reading and daydreaming; the forest was also a place where he felt himself to be amongst friends.  He had spent hours listening and responding to the murmuring trees.  The trees called to him here as well, and he would have gladly spent hours amongst them.  Unfortunately, the elves of Imladris seemed to disapprove of his venturing alone into the woods.  Elrohir and Elladan no doubt would eagerly accompany him into the forest, and the three of them would surely receive permission if they promised to stay together; but then that would have defeated his purpose in going into the woods in the first place—to be alone with his thoughts and his dreams and his trees.

            Anomen sat up and looked toward the window.  He was wide awake and had no hope of sleeping.  He slipped from his bed and padded softly to the window.  In the moonlight the trees swayed and whispered.  "All are asleep but the trees," mused Anomen.  Suddenly he thought to himself, "If all are asleep, then there is no one awake to discover whether or not I am in my room!"

"And," Anomen smirked to himself, "if no one learns that I am not in my room, then no search party can be sent out.  And if no search party is sent out, then Glorfindel cannot be angry."  Glorfindel had been quite, ah, eloquent, the last time he returned from a fruitless search for the elfling.  (He had also seemed to move without his usual gracefulness.  Indeed, he had seemed to hold himself rather stiffly.)

Anomen crept quietly to the wardrobe.  Softly he opened it and pulled out a tunic and pair of leggings, which he quickly donned.  His boots he tied together and hung round his neck before stealing back to the window.  Carefully he slipped over the sill and climbed down a trellis that supported one of the graceful vines that adorned the outside of the Hall, making it sometimes hard to see where the vegetation ended and the building began.

An hour later Anomen was deep in the midst of the forest of Imladris.  Sighing in contentment, he picked out a particularly welcoming tree, one that seemed to stretch out its boughs to embrace him.  He settled himself securely on a wide branch, and hidden from the stars and any creature that might pry, he quickly fell asleep.  "I will only sleep for a little while," he promised himself, for he knew that he must climb back into his room before dawn.  Unfortunately, he truly was exhausted, and his brief nap turned into a relaxed slumber.  He slept both deeply and long.  So it was that the stars passed overhead and went to their rest, and the sun arose.  So it was that Elrohir and Elladan awoke to find Anomen's bed empty and the elfling nowhere to be found, and so it was that a bemused Elrond found himself sending yet again for Glorfindel.

"Nowhere to be found," repeated Glorfindel, as if dazed.  He had not planned on getting up quite so early and also had looked forward to soaking in warm water once he did get up.

"Aye, Glorfindel, that is what I said," replied Elrond, a trifle testily.  "He slipped out at night; the watchmen at the doors saw nothing, so he may have gone out the window."

Glorfindel groaned.  His backside was undeniably sore.  "Elrond, forget the chain and bell; I say we go directly to orc-tying him."

Elrond gestured impatiently.  "Glorfindel, we will discuss that later; it is possible that he has been gone for hours, mayhap for the entire night.  Please assemble a patrol."

"Very well," growled Glorfindel, "but you had better hope that he makes his way back here on his own before I get my hands on him."  He turned and strode out the door, betraying, Elrond noticed, a trifle of a limp.

As Glorfindel marched awkwardly down the hall, he did not notice that a small figure had hidden herself behind a column just outside the door to Elrond's sanctum.  Arwen stared after Glorfindel anxiously.  "Oh, oh, Glorfindel is angry at Nomie," she thought to herself.  "Glorfindel says Nomie better come home before he finds him!  I better tell Nomie.  I better go in the forest and find him!" 

            Overlooked in the bustle of preparations for the departure of the scouts, Arwen trotted on her short legs up to and out of the door, vanishing within minutes into the gardens that surrounded Rivendell.  From thence she made her way to the gate, and as the guards gazed wonderingly back at the hubbub that had erupted within the walls, the little elfling, well beneath their line of sight, simply strolled out into the wide world beyond.

            Shortly after, a very disgruntled Glorfindel departed with his patrol, scanning the the trees for any trace of Anomen.  Based on past experience, Glorfindel did not expect to find any signs of the elfling on the ground; a pity that, for had he looked down, he might have spotted some evidence of Arwen's passage.  But Glorfindel was looking for an elfling who would climb into a tree at the earliest opportunity and then travel across branches to the next tree.  Glorfindel would not waste time intently studying the ground for signs of such an arboreal elf.

            The longer Glorfindel rode, the more his backside hurt him.  He knew he hadn't seriously injured himself in the fall the previous day, but it was certain that more than his dignity had been bruised.  Try as he might, he could not keep from wincing from time to time.  Indeed, after several hours, the occasional wince had turned into a fixed grimace that made him look positively ferocious.

            The sun was overhead when Glorfindel's quarry finally awoke.  The branches had shaded Anomen's eyes from the light of the sun, but at last a ray broke through the canopy and fell upon his face, rousing him and revealing to him that night had long since turned to day.  Anomen was dismayed; he knew instantly that his absence must have been discovered, and he quailed at the thought of what Glorfindel would say.  It was then that he heard the sound of horses making their way through the forest.  He flattened himself on the branch and cautiously peered down.  Ai! It was Glorfindel and his patrol, and, by the Valar, Glorfindel's face was a study in fury!  It wouldn't do to let himself be caught by the balrog-slayer!  Anomen shrank further back into the cover of the tree, hardly breathing until the sound of the patrol had receded into the distance.    Then he sat up and considered what to do.  He was certain that Glorfindel was furious with him, and he wondered if Elrond was feeling the same way.  Elrond had already twice spoken to him about the necessity of asking permission before he left the vicinity of the Hall.  Tears sprang to Anomen's eyes at the thought that he may have angered the Lord who had given him sanctuary and treated him as a son.  Anomen began to panic, and he let his imagination take over, not even listening to the trees that murmured soothingly to him.  "I have ruined things," he whimpered to himself.  "I could have stayed in beautiful Rivendell, but now everyone is furious with me.  Perhaps Mithrandir will still have me.  I must get away and find him!"

            Anomen tried to remember what Mithrandir had said about his journey and was quite sure that he had said something about stopping in Lothlorien.  Anomen didn't want to renew his acquaintance with the Lady Galadriel, but it seemed that he would have no choice.  And perhaps, if he were under the protection of Mithrandir, the Lady would not probe too deeply into his past.  Now how to get to Lorien?  He recoiled at the prospect of journeying once more through Dunland, for he had not forgotten his ill-treatment at the hands of the man with the cudgel.  Moreover, such a path would force him through the Gap of Rohan, and **that would bring him too near to Isengard for his liking.  He still could not understand why Saruman made him uneasy, but, with reason or no, he was determined to stay out of the grasp of the wizard.**

"I will cross the mountains," he resolved, "and so come to Lothlorien.  True, the peaks are riddled with caves from whence Trolls spring in ambush, but I will be mindful of that.  I will journey only during the brightest part of each day, and as the sun begins to descend I will seek out clever hiding places in spots too small for a Troll to creep in to."  With his path chosen, Anomen stood upon the branch and lightly ran to its end before leaping gracefully to a branch in an adjacent tree.  He gave no notice to the fact that the trees were moaning frantically and swishing their leaves about in a nigh frenzy.  For once his wood sense failed him.

While Anomen was deciding upon a course of action, Arwen was thrashing about with great determination in the forest undergrowth.  She was now several hours and an equal number of miles from the Hall.  Sheer luck—or mayhap sheer ill luck—had kept her on a straight path; otherwise her wanderings would not have taken her so far from the doubly-anxious Elrond, an Adar who now knew that both a son and a daughter had gone missing.  The search for Arwen had been hitherto restricted to the garden and the many rooms of the Hall, but Elrond was about to turn his eyes towards the forest of Imladris.

"Elrond," said Erestor hesitantly, "we have been through each room in the Hall not once, not twice, but thrice.  Indeed, all of the buildings in Rivendell have been thoroughly searched, and we have looked in, under, and behind every bush in the garden.  I wonder if she is indeed here."

"By the Valar!" exclaimed Elrond.  "Where would she be if not here!?"

"Arwen is very fond of Anomen, is she not?"

In all the millennia of their friendship, Erestor had seldom seen Elrond look frightened.  This was to be one of those rare occasions.

"You think Arwen has followed Anomen into the forest!"

Erestor nodded unhappily.

Elrond let loose a string of oaths in Elvish, Westron, and Dwarvish.  Erestor had never heard his friend curse in Dwarvish, and from the look on Elrond's face, Erestor feared that he was on the verge of venting in the Dark Tongue.  He hastened to calm him.

"Elrond, with all the riders searching the woods, I am sure that someone will happen upon her tracks."

Elrond groaned.  "Erestor, do you not see!?  With all those scouts ranging about, all signs of her passage will have been obliterated.  If we find her, it will be because of luck—that and the grace of the Valar!"

Erestor looked concerned but begged to differ. "You are much too pessimistic.  I suggest that we send out scouts to systematically comb the forest.  Have the undergrowth swept by a line of searchers spaced an arm's length apart.  Surely Arwen could not have gotten far, and a methodical, thorough search will uncover her.  She is much younger than Anomen and cannot have gone far.  Moreover, she will not be hiding from us, as Anomen will."

Elrond looked at Erestor with surprise.  "You think he is evading the patrol?"

"Anomen has never been gone this long.  What better to explain the length of his absence than his fear that he has angered you—or, more likely, Glorfindel?"

Elrond grimaced.  "Ai, I myself said that it would take time for Anomen to adjust to our ways.  It has no doubt not entered his head that an elfling can do great wrong without forfeiting the affection of his elders.  That has not been his experience, I warrant.  But, Erestor, I fear there could be another reason that Anomen has failed to reappear.  Over these past several weeks, the patrols have repeatedly found signs that orcish scouts have penetrated our borders.  I pray that Anomen has not wandered so far that he has stumbled into the hands of spies probing the fringes of the forest."

Erestor nodded gravely.  "There is that danger, but Anomen is unusually alert to the moods of the trees.  No doubt Anomen would be warned off long before coming within the reach of the enemy."

"Aye," said Elrond, "but only if he is indeed listening to the voices of the forest."

TBA


	2. Playing Tag with Orcs

Thank you for your review, _Autore__ Kozoma.  Here is another installment._

Playing Tag with Orcs

            Anomen moved steadily east through the trees in the direction of the Misty Mountains.  The temperature dropped as the day drew to its close, but during his stay at Rivendell Anomen had grown strong and was not bothered by the chill in the air.  He had had little to eat in the days prior to his arrival at Elrond's Hall, but he had been making up for that each night at the Lord's table; and the hours spent running, wrestling, riding, and shooting in the company of Elrond and Elladan had strengthened his muscles and improved his stamina, which had begun to flag by the time of his encounter with Mithrandir in the woods of Imladris.

            Arwen, however, was not so lucky.  She was only a little elfling, after all, and became chilled much more quickly than Anomen, who, though also an elfling, was nevertheless a much older and larger one.  Arwen was shivering even before the sun set, and once its warmth was gone, her jaw began to ache as she clenched her teeth together to stop them from chattering so violently.  She longed to stop and huddle at the foot of a tree, but dimly she sensed that she had better keep moving.  And so she stumbled on, still moving away from the Hall in a straight line.

            Anomen, with wood skill that Arwen lacked, was able to find shelter after the setting of the sun and so chose not to move on.  He looked about until he found a hollow in a tree, into which he crawled, pulling leaves and branches after him until he was quite snug.  He would have been completely comfortable were it not for the ache in his head.  He had been trying for hours to ignore the words of the trees, which had grown from whispers to moans to shouts to shrieks.  He had never experienced anything like the pain that came from stubbornly trying to block out these insistent voices.  "They're Imladris trees," Anomen declared to himself.  "I won't listen to them!"  At last he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

            Arwen kept on moving steadily throughout the night, hugging herself to keep warm and from time to time stopping to stamp her feet until she could again feel her toes.  By dawn she was stumbling and swaying, but she was resolute.  Once Arwen fixed her mind upon something, she could not be swayed, and she had fixed her mind upon finding her beloved Nomie!  This was a character trait that her brothers and father had found both admirable and vexing.  Now it stood her in good stead, for, having traveled through the night, she was indeed near to Anomen's hiding place.

            Anomen awoke, crawled out of the hollow, stood, and stretched his cramped limbs.  Then he set about looking for food and water.  During his month in Rivendell, he had learned to recognize several edible plants that had not been familiar to him in Greenwood, so, even in this cold season, he did not fear that he would be unable to locate roots and nuts sufficient for his survival.  After a short time scouring the undergrowth, he did indeed collect enough for a breakfast, meager but adequate, and he satisfied his thirst at a creek.  Then he began to move eastward again.  The trees were beginning to thin, so he knew he could not be far from the border of Imladris.  He was anxious to put he forest behind him.  As soon as he had stirred, the trees had begun clamoring again, and the ache in his head, which had subsided during the night, awoke once again.  Anomen found that the pain was making him move more and more slowly.  The closer he came to the border of Imladris, the slower he seemed to travel.

            In the end that was a good thing, for if Anomen, heedless as he was, had been moving quickly, he might have stumbled into the middle of the Orcs camping just within the fringe of the forest.  He had been just about to cross from one tree to the next when he spotted the Orcs sprawled about on the ground directly beneath him.  Fortunately most Orcs lack the capacity to think in more than two-dimensions, so no eyes were raised into the tree.  Moreover, it was daylight, so most of the Orcs were sleeping.  Still, as Anomen scrambled back to hide himself on the far side of the trunk, he scraped a fragment of bark from the branch, which fell into the open mouth of a dozing Orc.

            "Hrrrgh," gagged the Orc, who, sitting up, spit the bark into his hand and stared at it.   "Where'd this come from?"

            "From the tree, idiot.  Where else would bark come from?" snarled one of his companions.

            The Orc raised his eyes and glared at the branch above him.  "So what's it doing down here?  Bark belongs on trees.  Skin belongs on Orcs.  You don't see pieces of my skin hopping off and landing in someone's mouth."

            "Yeah, well, if yeh don't shut up, a piece of yer skin might be **cut off** and land in someone's mouth," grumbled another Orc, who didn't appreciate being roused from his dream, which had been very satisfying, involving as it did crushing and smashing and slashing.

            "Shut up the lot of yeh," growled their leader.  "Yeh never heard of squirrels?  Bunch of mine Orcs, yeh are.  Yeh'd think yeh'd never seen a tree before."

            After a considerable amount of snarling and grumbling and poking and jabbing, the camp settled down again, leaving a lone Orc on watch.  Anomen began to breathe more easily as he considered what to do.  He had no doubt that he could circle around this camp and so continue his journey.  But should he?  Did Elrond and Glorfindel know about this band of Orcs?  Anomen hadn't seen any sign that elvish scouts had searched this part of the forest any time recently.  After all, reasoned Anomen, the patrols couldn't be everywhere at once.  Likely this Orcish band had hitherto gone undiscovered—if it had been detected, surely by now elvish warriors would have rudely interrupted the Orcs' little nap!  Anomen also wondered where this band was heading and what the Orcs were planning.   The band of Orcs was not large enough for a frontal assault on Rivendell, but it was rather a large company for scouting alone.  Did these Orcs plan to mount a raid, targeting one of the smaller bands of Elves that from time to time set out on trading or diplomatic missions?   Anomen made up his mind.  He must return to Rivendell in order to warn Elrond of the presence of these Orcs.

            As soon as Anomen reached that decision, the shrieking trees fell silent.  Then, very softly, he heard a murmur, "Look out for her; look out for the little one."  Almost simultaneously, he heard a rustling in the undergrowth below.  Peering down, he was horrified to see Arwen looking up at him, smiling, her mouth open as if she were about to hail him.  "Shhhh," he whispered urgently.  "Don't move; don't make a sound."

            Mercifully, Arwen nodded and quietly sat down at the base of the tree.  Apparently she thought this was a game; had she not, no doubt her innate stubbornness would have prompted her to shout and stamp her feet.  Realizing this, Anomen said softly, "I am going to be very silly and make a great deal of noise.  When I do, you jump up and run back the way you came.  I will chase after you and catch you.  Run very fast, so I cannot catch you too easily.  Do you understand?"

            Delighted, Arwen nodded vigorously.  Reassured, Anomen crept away from the trunk, balancing on the branch above the sleeping Orcs.  With his feet, he kicked off several pieces of bark, which landed on the faces and in the hair of the Orcs.

            "Yrrrgh-ugh-umf," snarled and coughed at least six of the creatures.  One of the bewildered Orcs stared up at the tree and caught sight of Anomen.

            "What's that!?  What's that there up th'tree!?"

            "I'm a squirrel," shouted Anomen.  "Can't you tell, you miserable mine Orc!?  I'm a squirrel!"

            All the Orcs were awake now and glowering at Anomen.  Out of the corner of his eye, Anomen saw Arwen scurrying away.

            "A squirrel, eh," bellowed the leader.  "We skin squirrels and eat'em for dinner.  After 'im boys!  Choicest morsel goes to the one who knocks the rat off that branch."

            Anomen dodged a shower of missiles—the Orcs threw everything from rocks and sticks to frying pans and kettles—and danced lightly back behind the shelter of the trunk.  The Orcs swarmed around the base of the tree, but Anomen didn't care; he took off running along a branch and leaped to the next tree.  The Orcs tried to keep up, craning their necks as they tried to spot him in the canopy, but although they caught an occasional glimpse of him, after a time he evaded them altogether.  The Orcs, exceedingly hungry after all this exercise, were forced to return disappointed to their camp.  Anomen was now free to go off in pursuit of Arwen, who was still merrily scrambling through the woods.

TBC 


	3. Flight to Rivendell

_MoroTheWolfGod_, this one is for you.  Thank you!

**Chapter 11**

**Flight to Rivendell**

Anomen raced through the trees, leaping from branch to branch, from time to time pausing to study the ground intently for any sign of Arwen.  The trees murmured encouragement, so he knew he was on the right track.  Still, he was anxious to find the little elfling as quickly as possible.  He had led the Orcs away from Arwen and he was sure that they had returned to their camp for the time being, but if they were indeed a raiding party, then they might be moving this way, toward Rivendell, as soon as the sun set.  Ungainly creatures though they were, Orcs could move quickly.  If Arwen were left too long on her own, they might overtake her.  Anomen shuddered at the thought.  He would not let that happen!

Arwen had taken Anomen's instructions to heart.  Giggling, she scrambled as fast as she could through the undergrowth, glancing back over her shoulder from time to time to see whether her friend were catching up.  At last she caught sight of him.  Oh, no, Anomen was going to find her!   Not wanting the game to end, Arwen looked about for a place to hide.   A fallen tree lay across a hollow in the ground, leaving just enough space underneath for a small elfling.  Into the hollow she crept.

Arwen was so light that Anomen had been frustrated in his search for her tracks.  Thus, much to Arwen's delight, Anomen at first leapt right past her hiding place.  Fortunately, the forest was taking a keen interest in his quest.  As he jumped to a tree beyond the spot where Arwen lay hidden, it swung one of its limbs and batted him right off the branch he was balanced upon.

"Ooomph!"  Anomen landed in a deep windrow of leaf litter, the breath knocked out from him but otherwise unhurt.  Arwen could not contain herself.  She laughed at the sight of Anomen raising his face from the pile of litter, leaves clinging to his hair, one dangling from an eyebrow.  Anomen laughed, too—out of relief at finding her.

"Arwen, would you like a pick-a-back ride?"

"Yes, yes," Arwen answered gleefully.

"Climb on then."  With Arwen clinging to his back, Anomen climbed back up into the vigilant tree, whose leaves softly brushed his hair by way of apology, and made off for Rivendell as fast as he possibly could.

In Rivendell, a general gloom was spreading.  Both Anomen and Arwen had now been missing for the space of an entire night, and night was the time most to be feared.  Not only was it cold at night during this season; it was after sundown that malevolent creatures walked abroad, searching for their victims.  Imladris was well guarded and had magic of a sort, but not even that realm could be utterly immune to the dark forces that were tightening their grip on Middle Earth.  With this in mind, Elrond had joined the search parties that were moving out from Rivendell in an ever-expanding circle.

"Shhh," Elrond ordered, reining his horse to a halt.

"What do you hear?" whispered Erestor, who had insisted upon accompanying his friend.

"Look over there.  Do you not see those boughs swaying?"

"Yes, but a stiff breeze is blowing.  Why should the boughs not sway?"

"Erestor," Elrond replied, both amused and impatient, "those boughs are not bending with the breeze.  Something moves this way."

Erestor's eyes lit up.  "And as Orcs do not commonly travel through the tree-tops, no doubt that something is an elfling."

Elrond allowed himself a smile for the first time since Anomen's disappearance.

"Aye, but let us stay perfectly still, so as to not frighten him off."

"Or frighten them off," said Erestor hopefully.

Elrond snorted.  "I wish Arwen **would be frightened sometimes.  But hush."**

Elrond and Erestor dismounted from their horses and watched as the shaking in the branches drew nearer and nearer.  At last Elrond and Erestor could make out Anomen's figure.  To Elrond's disappointment, Anomen did not hold Arwen in his arms—but, wait, was that Arwen clinging to his back?  Elrond could wait no longer.  He stepped out from his place of concealment.

"Ada," squealed Arwen.  "I found Nomie!"  In her excitement she let go of Anomen and tumbled upside down into the arms of her father, who quickly righted her.

"Ada," declared Arwen, "Nomie and I played a game!  First Nomie was chased by ugly, ugly creatures.  After Nomie was done playing with the creatures, he chased me.  Wasn't Nomie nice to give me a head start?  Then I hid from Nomie, but he found me and gave me an ever-so-long pick-a-back ride, much longer than Elladan or Elrohir ever do!"

"Anomen gave you a head start, did he?  So he ran one way, with the creatures chasing him, and you ran the other way—is that the way it was?"

"Yes, Ada, and Nomie made such a great deal of noise and dropped bark on the creatures.  He was very silly, wasn't he Ada?"

Elrond looked at Anomen and smiled.  "Very silly, indeed."

"Lord Elrond, I need to talk with you privately for a moment," said Anomen softly.  "Away from Arwen," he added, "so she won't be frightened."

"Frightening her might not be such a bad idea," Elrond replied a little dryly.  Nevertheless, he turned to Erestor and said, "Mellon-amin, would you give Arwen a ride on your great stallion?  Usually she only rides her little pony, but don't you think we should let her ride with you as a treat?"

"Yes, yes!" clamored Arwen.  "I want to ride with Nuncle Erestor!"

Elrond winked at 'Nuncle' Erestor, who gave him a sour look but quietly consented, settling Arwen securely before him and turning his mount in the direction of Rivendell.  As soon as they were out of hearing, Anomen swiftly described the Orcs, their number and equipage as well their location.  Elrond nodded thoughtfully.

"You have observed well, ion-nîn."

Anomen looked at Elrond with astonishment.  "My son" was not one of the names that he had expected to be called upon his return.  Elrond noticed his expression and smiled to himself.

"Of course, there is another matter that we must discuss."

Anomen's face fell and he bowed his head.

"But that can wait until after you have eaten, bathed, and rested."

Anomen looked up with renewed hope.  But just then he spied Glorfindel, alerted by Erestor, cantering toward them.  The elfling's face fell again.  Elrond, however, spoke up before Glorfindel had a chance to utter a word, informing the elf-warrior that a sortie must be mounted and led to the border at once and prompting Anomen to relay to Glorfindel all that he had seen.  After hearing what the elfling had to say, Glorfindel, all business, wheeled his horse about and galloped back toward Rivendell.  After he was out of sight, Anomen exhaled deeply.  He had not realized that he had been holding his breath!  Elrond laughed outright.

"Oh, I am sure that Glorfindel has something planned for you later, but don't fret.  I believe it has something to do with polishing all the helmets and shields in the armory—nothing too tedious, right, Anomen?"  Elrond lowered his voice conspiratorially.  "Perhaps I can arrange to have Elladan and Elrohir keep you company.  Rarely a day goes by that they do not deserve to be set to cleaning and scrubbing.  I'm sure I can find some reason for them to join you in the armory."  Elrond smiled and put his hand on the shoulder of the astonished elfling.

"Come; let us go home."  The elf-lord turned and mounted his horse, then reached down to pull Anomen up behind him.  Together they turned toward Rivendell—toward  home. 


	4. In Search Of A Wizard

**Here is another adventure set back in the time when Anomen was still 'finding his feet' at Rivendell and inclined to run away if he felt slighted or uneasy. This means that Elrohir is still in his 'bully' incarnation. Sorry!**

**I have just found out that someone nominated one of my stories for a 2004 My Precious Award for LOTR fanfiction in the category of Humor. I don't know who nominated the story, but whoever you are, thanks!**

Anomen was sulking.

This was, of course, most uncharacteristic of the elfling, who, while not the noisiest of the younglings—Elrohir held that distinction—was almost always happy in a quiet sort of way.

But today he was sulking.

None of the grown-ups, however, knew that he was sulking because, since he _was_ sulking, he had made himself scarce. To be precise, he was hiding far above the ground, in the crown of an old oak in an obscure corner of the grounds of the Hall. He had been there since the noon meal, and now the evening meal drew near.

"Elrond," said Glorfindel after he had seated himself at the table and helped himself to a portion of bread and cheese, "why did Anomen not come to his archery lesson today? Was he being punished for some transgression?"

Elrond raised an eyebrow.

"If he was being punished, 'twas not by me. Erestor, did he misbehave this morning?"

"No. He acquitted himself quite well in the library—unlike certain other elflings I could mention."

Elrohir and Elladan looked down at their plates, a not uncommon occurrence as they generally spent a part of each meal trying to avoid the eyes of their elders.

"I wonder," mused Elrond, "if he fell afoul of the Armorer or the Cook—although usually they send me word when they set an elfling to doing chores."

"Perhaps," suggested Glorfindel, "he has done something naughty and is hiding to _avoid_ being set to chores."

"Well," said Erestor briskly "whatever the cause of his absence, hunger will drive him out."

"You underestimate him," said Elrond wryly. "Remember that he of all the elflings is the most skilled at purloining food from the kitchen. But perhaps Elrohir and Elladan can help us solve this mystery."

He turned to these elflings, who were still studying their plates.

"Elladan, Elrohir, why did Anomen not appear for his archery lesson today?"

"I am not sure," Elrohir said cautiously.

"Not sure?" said Elrond. "Yet in spite of your lack of surety, perchance you can tell us something?"

"Not sure," repeated Elrohir stubbornly.

Elrond's other eyebrow went up. Elrohir was not usually so reserved.

"Elrohir, in spite of the fact that you are 'not sure', tell me whatever you know. I should very much like to have Anomen's whereabouts accounted for before it grows any darker."

"Um, well, he _may_ have taken offense at something."

"At 'something'—as in something that was said to him?"

"Perhaps," said Elrohir noncommittally.

"As in something that was said to him by one of his comrades?"

"Um, very likely."

"Elrohir said he wasn't wanted!" Elladan suddenly burst out. He had been grieving for Anomen all afternoon, and now he glared at his brother.

"Not wanted? What do you mean?"

"Elrohir said that you kept him here only as a favor to Mithrandir, who couldn't be bothered with him himself."

Everyone looked shocked. That had been a very mean thing to say. To give Elrohir some credit, he looked dreadfully miserable just then.

"Elrohir," said Elrond sternly, "tomorrow you and I will discuss this matter _at length_. For now, however, it is of the greatest importance that we find Anomen at once. I do not want him roaming about, sad and miserable, in the dark and therefore perchance heedless of peril."

Unfortunately, even as Elrond was speaking, a sad and miserable Anomen was in fact slipping down from his tree and marching away with great determination. He had resolved that he would leave Imladris and go in search of Gandalf.

"I'll show Elrohir!" he said to himself. "Mithrandir couldn't keep me before because I was too young. But now I'm older and can look out for myself, and I wouldn't inconvenience Mithrandir if I joined him. I won't be a burden, and he may even be glad of my company. I can fetch firewood and water and make his tea! And the next time Mithrandir visits Rivendell, I shall stand by his side, and Elrohir will be sorry. He'll say, 'Won't you stay? Please, won't you stay?' And Elrond will, too. But I won't!"

Of course, it is an interesting fact that Anomen was walking on the forest floor as he indulged in these thoughts. Generally, Anomen's preferred mode of escape was by springing from branch to branch, as he knew it was very difficult for even an Elf to track his arboreal progress. Yet, curiously, here he was walking on the ground—stomping, really—and even Erestor could probably have followed his trail.

Several months ago Elrond had noticed that Anomen tended to gravitate toward one tree in particular, the ancient oak, and he and Glorfindel hurried to it.

"Ah hah!" exclaimed Glorfindel, pointing to the base of the tree. "Our youngling has indeed been here, and yonder he has gone—and most carelessly, I must say!"

Elrond smiled knowingly.

"Yes, he will certainly not be difficult to track. The moon is full tonight, and with such a clear trail, we should find him shortly."

It felt more like an evening stroll than a search for an errant elfling as they followed the plainly marked trail, each of Anomen's footprints having been pressed deeply into the dirt.

"This represents progress," muttered Elrond. "Running away, but carefully leaving a trail so that we will fetch him home again. Remarkable, really."

"What are you carrying on about?" said Glorfindel.

"I was thinking that Anomen has really grown quite attached to us."

Glorfindel stared at him.

"May I remind you that Anomen is at this moment running _away_ from us?"

"Of course, and thereby demonstrating how very fond he is of us."

"You have been spending too much time with Mithrandir," growled Glorfindel, "for you speak in paradoxes."

"Glorfindel, tell me. If an elfling wanted to be convinced that he was loved, which would he find more reassuring: receiving a good-night kiss at the end of a day when he has been very well-behaved, or receiving one at the end of a day when he has been very naughty?"

"Hmmm. I see. And I suppose the lesson I am to draw from this example is that an elfling who is not sure he is wanted can prove to himself that he _is_ by running off and seeing if anyone takes the trouble to come after him."

"Exactly."

"Then by all means let us hasten to find him!" Glorfindel declared fiercely. "I mean," he added quickly, "this is a tiresome way to spend an evening, and I would much rather be relaxing with a glass of wine in front of a crackling fire."

Elrond kept a grave expression on his face, but inside he was laughing. He knew perfectly well that Glorfindel was quite fond of Anomen but that the weapons-master was simultaneously convinced that he had to uphold his reputation as the stern-faced balrog-slayer.

"Very well, Glorfindel. We shall find him as quickly as we may so that you will be able to enjoy a leisurely evening in the Hall of Fire."

The two strode on, continuing to follow the elfling's trail with little or no trouble. Suddenly, however, the trail vanished.

"Now that is strange," said Elrond. "He is trying to make himself scarce after all."

Glorfindel carefully examined the ground.

"True. He is trying to make himself scarce, but not in order to elude us. There are wolf tracks at the base of this tree."

"Ai! Wolf tracks! Now what possessed us to come away without our weapons!?"

Dismayed, the two Elves looked at one another. Each was armed only with the knife that all Elves carried about at all times. Glorfindel was the first to recover his equanimity.

"Do not be troubled, Elrond. It is unheard of for wolves to attack two full-grown Elves. Moreover, this is naught but a lone wolf. See. From the tracks it is plain that this wolf is lame. Crippled, it has been forced out of its pack, and hunger drives it to behave in a fashion atypical for its kind."

"I am well aware," said Elrond impatiently, "that wolves generally do not molest full-grown Elves. But it was not of ourselves that I was thinking. Pray remember that it is an elfling whom the wolf stalks."

"It is true," acknowledged Glorfindel, "that Anomen is an elfling, and smaller even than most younglings of his age, and so the wolf thinks perchance he can bring him down. However, as Anomen is safe in a tree, it does not matter that the wolf hunts him. He merely need stay out of its reach. Let us continue the search."

"You are overlooking one important fact, Glorfindel," replied Elrond, only partly mollified.

"What is that?"

"It is as difficult as Mordor to track _any_ Elf through the treetops, and our task is made the harder because it is Anomen whom we pursue!"

"You are right," conceded Glorfindel, chagrined. "I had forgotten. But at least the moon is full, and as Anomen _wishes_ to be found, he will take care to leave signs."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps, unnerved by the fact that a hungry wolf paces beneath him, he will forget everything save moving surreptitiously through the trees."

Glorfindel sighed.

"I suppose the only thing to do is climb this tree and look for traces of him."

Elrond sighed, too.

"I suppose I had better disencumber myself."

He undid the fastenings of his robe and then, dressed only in his tunic and leggings, he leaped up and laid hold of a branch from which to spring into the tree. Glorfindel followed suit. Had anyone witnessed their passage from branch to branch, he would scarcely have been able to guess how many Ages they had dwelled upon Middle Earth, so effortlessly did they move through the treetops as they searched for signs of the missing elfling.

Ai! Elrond was right. When Anomen had spied the wolf skulking in the undergrowth, he had forgotten everything save scampering out of the predator's reach. The Elves could find no sign of his passage. At last, stymied, they sat side by side on a large tree limb. Suddenly Glorfindel began to laugh. Elrond looked at him in amazement.

"I fail to see the humor in the fact that an elfling is alone in the forest at night and being tracked by a wolf!"

"We are fools, Elrond."

"Speak for yourself, Glorfindel!" retorted Elrond indignantly.

"Anomen is being tracked by a wolf, undoubtedly by scent alone. Now, the wolf does leave tracks upon the ground, ones which we can find. Ergo, we should be tracking the wolf."

"Who will thereby lead us to Anomen!" finished Elrond.

"Exactly."

Feeling a little silly, the two Elves swung down from the tree and began to rapidly follow the trail of the wolf.

This clever plan would have worked quite well, had it not been for the fact that at about this time Anomen was engaging in some cleverness of his own. He had been springing from tree to tree in an effort to shake the wolf, but the beast was doggedly pursuing him. No doubt, lame as it was, the wolf had learned to rely heavily upon its sense of smell, so no matter how quietly or how quickly the elfling moved, the wolf caught up with him again. Now the elfling was perched in a tree looking down at the wolf that guarded its base.

"However am I to get shut of that wolf?" wondered Anomen despairingly. "His sense of smell is much too keen. Ah, that's it. I've got to give him something to keep his nose occupied whilst I slip away!"

Anomen looked about him until he spied a gnarled branch that he thought might do. It was a green branch and so could not be easily broken from the tree, but he sawed at it with his knife until he was able to pull it free. Then he used the same knife to prick his finger. Squeezing blood from the small wound, he smeared it onto the branch. Meanwhile, at the smell of blood the wolf had grown quite alert and was pacing at the bottom of the tree.

"Hah! That's got his attention!" exulted Anomen. Careful to keep out of sight of the wolf, the elfling whipped the branch back and then threw it with all his might into the neighboring tree, where it caught on a branch and dangled. Attracted by the noise and then captured by the scent, the wolf fixed his attention upon that tree. Meanwhile, Anomen was quietly scampering off in the opposite direction.

Shortly after Anomen had thus succeeded in making his escape, Elrond and Glorfindel arrived on the scene. The wolf had settled down to wait under the decoy tree, but, perceiving the approach of two full-grown Elves, he now arose and skulked away. Elrond and Glorfindel hastened to the base of the tree and looked up hopefully. They saw no one.

"Anomen," called Elrond, thinking that the elfling was perhaps hidden in the crown. No answer.

"Look," said Glorfindel, pointing, "that species of wood has no business in this tree."

Glorfindel picked up an old chunk of wood from the forest floor and flung it into the tree, knocking Anomen's branch loose. He bent down to pick it up.

"The base of this branch has been cut with a knife," he observed, "and it has been smeared with blood."

"No doubt elfling blood," said Elrond, torn between pride at Anomen's cleverness and disappointment over the fact that he had slipped off before they could reach him.

"Now how are we to track him?" brooded Glorfindel. "No doubt he has taken such a fright that he will not soon return to the forest floor."

Elrond nodded gloomily.

"I think," he said reluctantly, "that we had best return to the Hall. Eventually Anomen will make his way home, and we will simply have to patiently wait until he does."

"But he will not know how badly we wished to find him!" exclaimed Glorfindel, appalled.

"Elladan will tell him that we went in search of him," Elrond pointed out.

"True—if he returns to hear the tale! But what if he is doubtful of his welcome and wanders on? We can by no means be certain that he will come back to Rivendell!"

Elrond nodded unhappily.

"You are right, Glorfindel, but I do not see how we can track him."

"I will _not_ leave off searching for him," said the balrog-slayer with such vehemence that his friend was taken aback. "You may return to the Hall, but I will not!"

Elrond shook his head.

"No, I will go with you. We shall simply have to contrive to be as clever as Anomen, as impossible as that may seem."

"As clever as Anomen," said Glorfindel thoughtfully. "He has given a wolf the slip; what would his next move be?"

"I am certain he hoped that we would catch him," observed Elrond, "but the wolf spoiled his plans. If he were sure of his welcome, he would turn back. But either pride or fear—or both—may keep him from doing so."

"If he were reluctant to return to Rivendell, where would he go, Elrond?"

"He would seek out Mithrandir."

"Who has no fixed abode!" cried Glorfindel in frustration.

"True, but there are some places that he frequents with some regularity. When he visited us last, he said he meant to journey on to Lothlórien, for he was desirous of consulting with Galadriel and Celeborn over some matter."

"Did Anomen know this?"

"To my knowledge he was not in the room during this conversation," said Elrond. "But," he added wryly, "that does not mean that he was not there!"

As frustrating as the situation was, Glorfindel could not help but laugh.

"Yes," he chuckled, "I have never met an elfling who could slip so easily into such a variety of odd corners."

"Well," he continued briskly, shaking off his humor, "Lothlórien is certainly a possibility. He has been there before; it has that in its favor. If he makes for that land, he is sure to try to cross the Misty Mountains, for he would be reluctant to enter Dunland, as he would be required to do if he wished to pass through the Gap of Rohan and so turn north again. Let us make for the nearest pass through the Misty Mountains and see if we do indeed pick up his trail."

Elrond was agreeable but suggested that they first return to the Hall.

"We must inform Erestor of our plans, as he shall have to be in charge in our absence; and, as we propose to cross the Misty Mountains, we need provisions and weapons."

Glorfindel saw the wisdom of this, and the two friends turned their steps to the Hall.

As Elrond and Glorfindel were making their way back to Rivendell, Galadriel was beckoning to Gandalf.

"Mithrandir," she said softly, "I think you should look in my mirror. I have seen a most curious sight."

Gandalf looked at her quizzically.

"A new peril that I must face?"

"'Peril' would be too strong a word. Let us call it a 'complication'."

"A complication?"

"Yes. A _small_ complication."

Now thoroughly curious, Gandalf followed Galadriel into her glade and watched respectfully as she poured the silvery water into the basin, where it shimmered briefly before swirling about to form the pictures that allowed Galadriel to cast her mind throughout Middle Earth. Gandalf wondered if the lost palantiri had been as delightful a method of projecting one's vision. He doubted it.

Now he bent over the basin, waiting for the waters to still so that he might see what it was that Galadriel had thought so important.

"Hey!" he exclaimed suddenly, too surprised to be dignified. "Whatever is _he_ doing wandering about in the wild!? I left him safe in Rivendell!"

"Apparently he has become misplaced."

"Misplaced? Misplaced!" spluttered Gandalf indignantly. "How can one misplace an elfling? If this is some carelessness on Elrond's part, I shall, I shall—affix his eyebrows to his ears, that's what I shall do!"

The wizard had seized his staff and begun to stomp from the clearing when he suddenly realized that he did not know where in the wild Anomen _was_. He returned to the basin and studied the scene intently.

"Ah," he said at last. "I know that pass. Well, my Lady, it seems that I must be off to collect my little Elf. Perhaps this time I shall bring him here, as Elrond has proved to be a most unreliable guardian."

"You are forgetting," said Galadriel, "that he has absconded from this land as well. Moreover, would you truly wish to trust him to the tender mercies of Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin?"

"Hmph!" snorted Gandalf. "Wouldn't be much worse than leaving him in the company of Elladan and Elrohir, I'd warrant. Still, I'll give Elrond a chance to explain himself before I make up my mind."

"And before you rearrange his eyebrows, I trust."

"Well, well, perhaps I spoke too hastily. Elrond makes great use of his eyebrows. Wouldn't want to tamper with them unnecessarily."

"I am glad to hear you say that," replied Galadriel gravely. She hoped the wizard would leave quickly because she didn't think she could keep a straight face much longer. Fortunately for her, Gandalf obliged by hastening from the glade and departing straightaway for the pass in the Misty Mountains toward which a tiny figure was toiling.

That tiny figure was a dejected one. Anomen walked with head down, shoulders stooped, and eyes tear-filled. It is true that he would not have minded spending time in Gandalf's company, but he had never truly meant to run away. Elrond had been right: although Anomen had not been consciously aware of it, he had been trying to leave a clear trail so that the elf-lord could find him. Had Elrond done so, that would have demonstrated to Anomen—and Elrohir!—that the elfling was indeed wanted. But the wolf had ruined this ingenious plan, and Anomen had no way of knowing that not only Elrond but Glorfindel had been diligently tracking him.

Once Anomen had eluded the wolf, he had briefly contemplated returning on his own to Rivendell, but he quickly abandoned the thought. He knew that he had been gone long enough so that it was plain to all that he had run away. To go creeping back now would be too humiliating. Elrohir would be forever rubbing his face in it. "Now I truly must find Mithrandir," he mournfully thought to himself. "I hope he won't be too dreadfully angry that I didn't stay put where he left me." Anomen hardly dared to think what he would do if Mithrandir turned him away. There was always Greenwood, of course, but the prospect of crawling back to King Thranduil was even less appealing than that of returning to Rivendell.

Now another thought occurred to Anomen. What if Mithrandir were not in Lothlórien? Anomen had run away once from the Lady of Lórien, and now he feared that his prior ungracious behavior would make the Galadhrim chary of hosting him. Perhaps if the wizard were not there to vouch for him, he would be turned away at the border. Whatever would he do then!?

Anomen came to a halt, irresolute. He was fearful of going back, but now he was equally fearful of going forward. He imagined grim Galadhrim blocking his path, bows drawn and nocked, arrows pointing at his face. He shivered. The tears that had gathered in his eyes now began to roll down his cheeks. He was, after all, only an elfling.

As he stood weeping, he suddenly remembered that there was one other place where he might seek sanctuary. Saruman had said that he would always be welcome. Saruman had said that there would always be a place for him at Orthanc. Yes, he decided. He would flee to the White Wizard.

Thus resolved, he abandoned the path to Lothlórien and turned his steps south—toward Isengard.


	5. What's For Dessert?

**_Dragonfly: _Galadriel would find Gandalf endlessly amusing, I think.**

**_Vicki Turner: _Turn away from nice, nice Saruman? But _why_? Mwah hah hah hah.**

**_Joee_****: Aaaaargh! You are _evil_! Now I have all sorts of scenarios running through my mind by which Elrond could lose his eyebrows! Aaaaaaaaaaaah! (Author runs screaming into the night.)**

**_Mystwing_****: Perhaps, just perhaps, Gandalf finds him but that _still_ doesn't save him from Saruman. I'm just being hypothetical here, mind you.**

**_Karri: _Yes, Anomen is one sad little elfling right now, thanks to Elrohir, who is _such_ a brat sometimes.**

**Beta Reader: _Dragonfly_.**

Saruman drew the cloth from the Palantír, one of the few Seeing Stones to have survived the wreck of the kingdom of Westernesse. He had no great expectations of seeing anything of import that day, merely meaning to idle away a stray hour before inspecting the progress of his breeding program. For a few minutes he casually studied the scenes that flitted before him, but suddenly he peered intently into the depths of the globe.

"Oh ho!" he chortled. "That is the little elfling who was so eager to journey to Imladris—Anomen his name was, I believe. Well, it would appear that Anomen did not meet with the welcome that he anticipated from Elrond of Rivendell. So much the better for me! He comes this way, and I shall make sure that he is very well received. Oh, yes, he will have no occasion to flee _my_ hospitality. No, nor any opportunity, neither! Once he is within Orthanc, he shall stay here under my tutelage until I am ready to employ him as a spy."

In a most excellent humor, Saruman strode off to see how the latest goblin-orc-human crossbreed had turned out. So delighted was he that Anomen had fallen back into his clutches that he surprised several half-goblins by smiling at them.

Anomen, of course, had no such reason to smile. First of all, the further he trudged from Rivendell the more heartsick he was. Secondly, since he had not really meant to run away, he had brought along no provisions. Nor did he have any weapon but his knife. He had been foraging as he journeyed, but he was hungry nonetheless. He had tasted neither meat nor bread since fleeing Imladris, and the berries and roots he had been subsisting on hardly sustained him. Moreover, he had left his cloak behind, and he had no way of making fire, for of course he was not carrying his flint and steel. Each night he sought out a hollow tree or some such shelter in which to huddle, but he never felt truly warm. A grown Elf is not as susceptible to the cold as an adult Man, but an elfling who is hungry and tired and sad can hardly be distinguished from a human child in that regard. No, Anomen had no reason to smile.

As for Gandalf, his initial indignation over what he assumed to have been Elrond's negligence had worn off, and he had thrown all his thoughts and energy into rectifying the situation. He had been hiking steadily toward the pass where he had 'seen' Anomen, and, as he had neared it, he had cheerfully expected to encounter Anomen at any moment because he had naturally assumed that Anomen would have traveled on past the point and drawn all the nearer to Lothlórien. He could not know that Anomen had abandoned that path and was now heading south toward Isengard. Thus at length a very bewildered wizard stood at the spot where Anomen had been when Gandalf had observed him in the mirror. The wizard's cheerfulness shriveled up and was replaced by fear.

"Where ever could he be?" Gandalf worried. "Could I have somehow missed him as I journeyed out from Lórien? Or has some evil befallen him? I pray that that is not the case!"

As he stood brooding, he heard someone clear his throat apologetically. He turned swiftly about. There stood Elrond and Glorfindel.

"What are you two doing here?" the wizard exclaimed angrily.

Elrond was reluctant to admit that he was searching for Anomen, although he suspected from Gandalf's indignant manner that the wizard somehow already knew that.

"Have you just come from Lothlórien, Mithrandir?"

"I have."

"Ah, before you left there, did you happen to see Anomen?"

"I did not."

"Oh. Well, did you happen to pass him on the way?"

"I did not."

Elrond looked distressed.

"How could you have failed to encounter him!? We have tracked him to this very spot! If he is neither in Lothlórien nor on the way to Lothlórien, then where is he?"

"Why are you asking _me _where he is? _You_ are the one who was supposed to have taken charge of him!"

Elrond looked even more distressed and knew not what to say.

While this conversation had been taking place, Glorfindel, ever the practical one, had been carefully examining the ground. Now he spoke.

"Mithrandir has encountered Anomen neither in Lórien nor on the way to Lórien because Anomen in fact has gone elsewhere."

"Oh, _that_ is a profound observation," said Gandalf sarcastically.

Glorfindel was not quelled.

"Truly, Mithrandir, sometimes you talk just like a human. Would you give off sniping long enough to observe these tracks?"

Gandalf could have retorted that he was, after a fashion, to be indeed counted amongst the humans, but that would have been too humiliating an admission. Therefore, he held his peace, and both he and Elrond looked where Glorfindel was pointing. They saw smallish footprints forming a trail that had been heading east but that now took a turn to the south.

Both Elrond and Gandalf shared a look of alarm.

"If he heads south along the crest of the Misty Mountains, in the end he will come to Fangorn Forest," exclaimed Elrond. "That is no place for an elfling, especially not one as trusting of trees as Anomen. He is likely to take up with the wrong sort!"

"Or be taken up by the wrong sort," said Gandalf gloomily. "Some of the trees of Fangorn Forest make the trees of the Old Forest look positively benevolent."

"Then," said Glorfindel briskly, "let us leave off quarreling one with the other and seek after the elfling. That is, after all, why we are all here, is that not so?"

Without further discussion, the three companions turned toward the south and began to follow with all possible speed the tracks left behind by an elfling who drew ever closer to Isengard.

Gandalf's fear that Anomen would be seized by a wayward tree in Fangorn Forest proved to be groundless. Perhaps the elfling was too small and harmless looking to attract their attention. If fact, although Gandalf did not realize it, Anomen was in greater danger from the Ents, the guardians of the trees. Had those ancient creatures come upon him, they would have innocently handed him over for 'safekeeping' to Saruman, just as Treebeard had done previously, for as yet they had no inkling of the treachery of the White Wizard. Of course, it is possible that Gandalf would have come to hear of this, for the Ents would have felt no need to hide the act. If so, it is also possible that Gandalf would have been able to pry the elfling loose from Saruman. The White Wizard as yet had no wish to reveal his true nature! It is likelier, however, that, had Saruman once succeeded in getting his hands on Anomen, he would have politely but persuasively suggested that, as Elrond had lost the elfling, and as Gandalf had no fixed abode, Anomen had better remain in Isengard, where he could be properly looked after. If this had happened, the War of the Ring may have turned out otherwise than it did, and the Fourth Age of Middle Earth may have died aborning.

Fortunately, however, Anomen encountered no Ents, although he desperately wished to. The tired and hungry elfling thought it would be a lovely thing to perch upon the shoulder of Treebeard or one of his kin and be borne swiftly and in comfort to the very steps of Orthanc. He peered hopefully at every likely tree, but was disappointed again and again. Wearily he plodded on.

At length Anomen began to think that he could not be too far from the Ring of Isengard. Swaying a little upon weary legs, he stopped to think how best to approach the White Wizard.

"It would not do to stagger up to the tower and collapse at his feet," he murmured to himself. "I will stop and rest a bit before I go on. Also, my mouth is so dry that I will hardly be able to address him. I should try to slake my thirst. And I ought to at least wash my face before I seek an audience with Saruman. I look very disreputable, I am sure."

He staggered about looking for a source of water for drinking and bathing. At last he spied one, a pool of rainwater in a shallow depression. He crawled to its edge.

"I hope it is safe to drink," he murmured, staring into the pool's limpid surface. While he hesitated, far away in Lothlórien the Lady Galadriel gazed intently into her mirror, willing a picture to appear. As she did so, the water in the distant pool also began to shimmer and swirl. Transfixed, Anomen stared into the water as an image began to take shape. He found himself smiling at the face of Elrond, who smiled back fondly at him. In quick succession he saw the faces of Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen, Erestor, and Glorfindel. Each of them was smiling at him, yes, even Glorfindel and Elrohir. Indeed, the latter looked at him longingly, as if he wished that at that very moment they were laughing and racing together on the greensward. "I must go home," said Anomen in astonishment. "I must go home!" He did not doubt for a moment the truth of the images, although he could never explain what made him so certain of their veracity.

The images in the pool now faded away, and Anomen, sure that the water could not but be safe, leaned forward and drank greedily. After he had slaked his thirst, he staggered to his feet and began to limp off. Isengard forgotten, he made for the north.

In the tower of Orthanc, Saruman, who was gazing complacently into his Palantír, suddenly drew himself erect in consternation.

"Whatever is he doing? He has gotten himself turned about."

Vexed, Saruman summoned one of his half-goblin servants.

"An elfling is wandering in the forest to the north of Orthanc. See that he is fetched back here straight away. Mind you: I don't want him hurt; I don't even want him frightened if it can be avoided. Send out the least hideous of your lot. And be certain that all the wargs have been securely penned. I don't want any accidents befalling this elfling, for he will make a most useful servant. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," said the servant before shuffling off. Soon a dozen servants sallied forth from Isengard and fanned out to the north, searching for the elfling's trail.

Meanwhile, sick and weary and oblivious to his pursuit by both friend and foe, Anomen trudged on as quickly as he was able, retracing his steps through the foothills of the Misty Mountains. He gave no thought to hiding his trail, and probably would have been incapable of doing so even if it had occurred to him. Thus it was that one of the half-goblins came upon the elfling's tracks.

"Oh ho," he cackled. "If I'm the first to reach the brat, there'll be a reward in it, no doubt." The greedy half-goblin scuttled off along the trail without alerting his fellows, for he had no desire to share the prize.

The further north Anomen traveled, the steeper and more broken the ground became. Slower and slower he trudged, and nearer and nearer the half-goblin drew. At last the half-goblin came upon him and broke cover. Hearing the snapping of a branch, Anomen froze and looked over his shoulder. There stood a singularly ugly human who looked more than a little like a goblin. Anomen gazed fearfully at him.

Not wishing to frighten the elfling away, Saruman's servant put on his best semblance of a smile, curling back his lips and baring his teeth as he did so.

Anomen let out a shriek at the sight of his sharp, yellow fangs.

"Here, now," squeaked the half-goblin, alarmed, "don' be doin' that!" He didn't fear that Anomen's cries would summon aid—after all, who would be about?—but he didn't want Anomen bringing the other goblins down upon them. He raised his hands in what he hoped would be a soothing gesture, but Anomen let out another shriek at the sight of his sharp claws.

"Woncher be quiet?" begged the half-goblin. "Don' know no lullabies, if that's wot ye want, but if ye come along quiet-like, I'm sure the master does."

This idea was, of course, ludicrous—Saruman singing lullabies indeed!—but the servant was desperate to keep Anomen still long enough so that he could sidle near enough to grab him. He took what he thought would be an inconspicuous step toward the terrified elfling, but it was not inconspicuous enough. Like a deer that, seemingly frozen, has watched a wolf draw near, Anomen suddenly bolted.

During all this time, Elrond, Glorfindel, and Gandalf had been traveling doggedly south, and now they were close enough to hear Anomen. At the sound of the first shriek, they had begun running in the direction from whence it came. Soon they could hear branches breaking under the feet of the half-goblin who was pursuing the elfling, and they followed in his wake.

When they caught up with the half-goblin, he had pursued his quarry to the edge of a cliff. There Anomen teetered, flailing his arms about. As the half-goblin scurried toward him, the terrified elfling lost his balance and tipped over, grabbing at roots and vines as he did so. Fortunately, the cliff was several degrees short of vertical, so Anomen was more sliding down its face than falling. Still, no doubt he would have been badly bruised if he'd tumbled all the way to the bottom. Likely he would even have broken some bones. Luckily for him, he slid feet first onto a narrow shelf of stone and so his fall was arrested.

Above him, Glorfindel, who had drawn his sword when Anomen had first screamed, charged at the half-goblin, who now went flying in different directions—head one way, torso the other. Elrond and Gandalf had meanwhile raced to the edge of the cliff. Peering anxiously over it, they saw Anomen teetering on the ledge. He looked very weak and dizzy, and both the Elf and wizard feared that he would swoon and tumble the rest of the way down the cliff. Without hesitation, both Elrond and Gandalf slid down the slope, one coming to rest on the shelf on either side of the fainting Anomen, and each simultaneously reached for the youngling.

"I've got him," shouted Elrond, grabbing Anomen's left arm and pulling him toward him.

"No, _I've_ got him," exclaimed Gandalf, seizing his right arm and yanking Anomen toward _him_.

Back and forth they tugged the elfling, who, after he recovered from his faintness and initial shock, found he very much enjoyed being battled over. Glorfindel, however, soon put an end to the tug-of-war.

"Here now!" he bellowed, looking down over the edge of the cliff. "Are you trying to dislocate his shoulders? Leave off yanking him back and forth!"

Suddenly coming to their senses, Istar and Elf stood stock still, although neither of them relinquished his hold on the elfling.

"Well," said Gandalf with as much dignity as he could muster, "I am glad to see that you are trying to make good this unfortunate situation—although, if you had exercised due diligence in the first place, we wouldn't _be_ in this unfortunate situation!"

Elrond still having use of his eyebrows, they both shot up very nearly to his hairline.

"Do remember, Mithrandir, that Glorfindel and I have tracked Anomen all the way from Imladris!"

"My point exactly," replied Gandalf haughtily.

Elrond could not make out the logic of this answer, and gave up arguing as a bad business. Instead, he turned to the matter in hand, so to speak.

"Anomen looks poorly. We had best camp hereabouts to allow him to recover his strength before we return home."

At that word Anomen inhaled sharply. Gandalf looked shrewdly at him.

"Is that agreeable to you, Anomen—to rest before you return to Rivendell?"

"Oh, yes," Anomen said eagerly.

Elrond beamed and looked a little too triumphant for Gandalf's taste, but the wizard knew Rivendell truly was the best place for the elfling.

"Very well, then," he said, "but whilst we camp I expect you to make my tea!"

Now it was Anomen's turn to look triumphant.

"Oh, yes," he said happily. "I can fetch water and I can fetch sticks and I can kindle a fire and I can boil the water and I can steep the tea leaves and I can pour the tea—"

"Enough!" exclaimed Gandalf, laughing and holding up his free hand. "I hereby declare myself convinced that you are eminently well suited to making my tea! But first we need to get you off this ledge and onto more secure footing."

Glorfindel lay on his stomach on the top of the cliff and reached down his arms as far as he could. Meanwhile, Gandalf helped Anomen scramble up until he stood on Elrond's shoulders. While Gandalf kept a steadying hand on Anomen's legs, the elfling stretched up his arms until Glorfindel was able to seize hold of his wrists and draw him up beside him. That left Elrond and Gandalf standing on the ledge.

"Now we need to contrive our own escape," observed Elrond.

"Ah, that's easily done," said Gandalf. "You give me a leg up, so that I can reach Glorfindel's arms."

"That's all very well for you, but what about me?"

"You, my dear Elrond," said Gandalf with great aplomb, "are an Elf, and Elves are renowned for their grace, strength, and sense of balance. You can therefore manage to get off this ledge on your own!"

Gandalf's argument left Elrond at a great rhetorical disadvantage, and, so, grumbling, he had no choice but to boost up the wizard and then, unaided, climb up the face of the cliff as best he could. Fortunately, Gandalf was indeed right in his assessment of elven physical prowess, and so Elrond really had no great difficulty in achieving this feat.

Once all were safely on the top of the cliff, Glorfindel suggested that they look for a likely campsite.

"We won't find any water up here," he pointed out. "We must descend to the valley."

"Actually," said Elrond thoughtfully, "we are quite near to Isengard, are we not? Instead of making camp, why should we not push on to that place? Anomen will be very well housed and fed if we do, and Saruman no doubt has a stock of herbs and simples so that we may dose him if needful."

Glorfindel and Gandalf were agreeable to this plan. Anomen, however, did not wish to hear of it. Eager as he had before been to reach Orthanc, now he was equally eager to avoid it. He had succeeded in capturing the attention of Elrond and Gandalf and even Glorfindel. If they went on to Isengard, he feared that these three would engage in endless weighty discussions with Saruman. Anomen had no mind to share his rescuers—especially not Gandalf, whom he saw so rarely, and who, because he and Saruman were of the same order, would no doubt spend even more time than Elrond and Glorfindel in the company of the White Wizard. He cast about for a way to avoid going to Isengard. He commenced by groaning a little.

"What is the matter, Anomen?" said Elrond anxiously.

"I am so very, very tired, Ada," whimpered Anomen. "I suppose I could climb down to the valley, but I don't think I could walk on to Isengard. Couldn't we make camp in the valley?"

For good measure, the elfling winced and rubbed at his legs.

"Perhaps it is most important that he rest," opined Glorfindel, "and he may do so as conveniently under the stars as in a well-appointed chamber in the tower of Orthanc. Let us do as he wishes."

"What do you think, Mithrandir?" asked Elrond.

Gandalf smiled and winked at Anomen. He was fairly sure that he understood Anomen's reason for wishing to avoid Isengard. Aloud, he said that he could think of no objection.

"Between the three of us, we have cloaks enough to see that he is kept warm and comfortable," he observed.

Having reached agreement, they descended to the valley, Glorfindel in fact carrying Anomen so he did not have to exert himself even that far. If the elfling still harbored any doubts as to the affection that his elders felt for him, now they must have vanished utterly.

Reaching the valley, they found a sheltered spot next to a brook, and Anomen was soon nestled, comfortable and content, in the cloaks of his elders, who bustled about making camp. Elrond filled a camp kettle with water, Glorfindel drew forth dried meat from his pack, and Gandalf lit a campfire. The latter usually lit fires in the ordinary fashion, with flint and steel, but as Anomen was watching, he instead kindled the fire with a dramatic flourish of his staff and the muttering of an impressive incantation. The flourish was, of course, completely unnecessary, but a successful wizard knows when to be theatrical.

In short order, two Elves, one elfling, and a wizard sat down to enjoy a meal that, thanks to Glorfindel's centuries of experience at camp cooking, would have done even the Master Cook proud. They tucked into the food with such enthusiasm that for some time no one had anything to say. At length, however, Gandalf sighed and leaned back against a tree.

"Well, Glorfindel," he said jovially, "I trust you have something extra special in mind for dessert."

With that, half-goblins came swarming into the camp.


	6. A Trap Is Sprung

**_ErynLasgalen_****: Perhaps, just perhaps, you will find a little more elfling-fluff in this chapter if you read past the nasty stuff. Mind you: I make no promises!**

**_Karri: _Yes, I think there has been enough proof of their love even for such an emotionally buffeted elfling as Anomen.**

**_Mystwing_****: Yes, there is something to be said for the level-headedness of a balrog-slayer, someone who manages to keep his own head while all about them are losing theirs.**

**_Joee_****: You are right, of course. Anomen does not become comfortable with addressing Elrond as 'Ada' until _much_ later. He does it here because he is trying to work on Elrond's emotions. To explain matters, I should have included some sentence such as this: "Elrond was touched that Anomen had called him 'Papa', but he would have been much less moved if he had realized hat Anomen was consciously trying to play upon his emotions."**

**_Dragonfly: _You don't think nearly a dozen half-goblins are enough to take down two Elves and a wizard? Well, let's see if you're right.**

**Beta Reader: _Farflung_, who once again caught me confusing Elrond with Erestor.**** Ai! I will never be safe from the 'E' problem! There should be a circle in Dante's hell for the person who invented alliteration, a place where, yes, all the torments begin with the same letter. Hmm. Torment. Torture. Terrify. Terrorize. Traumatize. Yessss, Precioussss, we likes with these wordses.**

**Note regarding the canon: There is nothing in Tolkien to suggest that Glorfindel was a legendary lover. On the other hand, there is nothing to say that he was _not_. As we all know, fanfiction abhors a vacuum, so I've taken the liberty of filling in the gap!**

While Elrond, Gandalf, and Glorfindel had been tending to Anomen, Saruman's other servants had at length joined forces and come upon the tracks both of the elfling and of the half-goblin who pursued him.

"Looks like the rat wants ter take all the credit for snagging the pointy-ear," snarled one of them. "Can't have that, now, can we!?"

The others growled their assent, and the band loped off in quest of their prey. They followed Anomen and his pursuer up to the top of the cliff, and then they followed Anomen and his rescuers down into the valley. Unfortunately, so relieved were Elrond, Glorfindel, and Gandalf at having recovered Anomen that they were unusually careless and gave no thought to the possibility that additional foes might be near. Perhaps the nearness of Isengard was in part responsible for their complacency. It may never have occurred to them that so many foes would have been permitted so close to Saruman's stronghold. They may have assumed that the half-goblin was nothing more than a stray or a renegade rather than a harbinger of a larger force.

Be that as it may, they were largely unprepared for the onslaught of their enemies. Glorfindel and Elrond had laid their weapons aside, and Gandalf his staff. As for Anomen, he drew his little knife, but it was knocked from his hand by Elrond, who seized him and threw him bodily into the tree under which they had been sitting. As there had been no branches within Anomen's reach, he would not otherwise have been able to reach safety.

With Anomen literally above the fray, the three elders turned their attention to the foes who threatened to overrun them. Glorfindel dove for his sword and succeeded in reaching it before the charging half-goblins were upon them. Elrond had no time to lay hands upon his bow and quiver, but he drew his own knife, a more substantial one than Anomen's. As for Gandalf, he seized a brand from the fire and waved it threateningly at the half-goblin who was advancing upon him. That creature laughed mockingly, but his laughs turned to shrieks when Gandalf drove past his guard and thrust the flaming stick into his face. His shrieks were quickly silenced, however, for Gandalf wrested away the sword of his blinded foe and used it to slash his throat.

Elrond had meanwhile similarly managed to equip himself with a sword. More specifically, he had cut one from the hand of one of his assailants, thus 'disarming' his enemy, so to speak. The scimitar he had thus captured was more unwieldy than an elven blade, but he used it to good effect nonetheless.

Once armed, the trio quickly formed the traditional elven defensive circle, and fighting back to back the two Elves and the wizard proved invincible. They had faced nearly a dozen half-goblins at the outset, but they had no difficulty in 'cutting their opponents down to size'. In fact, by the end of the skirmish, there were quite a few 'half' goblins scattered about in more than one sense of the word.

As soon as their last foe had been dealt with, the three surrounded the tree and gazed up into it anxiously. To their relief, they saw that for once Anomen had stayed put, but their relief turned to concern when they realized that he had done so because he had been in too much pain to have done otherwise. In his zeal for the elfling's safety, Elrond had thrown him so hard across a tree limb that Anomen had very likely broken at least one rib. He lay dangling limply over the tree branch, pale and breathless. Alarmed, Elrond sprang into the tree and carefully lifted Anomen down to Glorfindel and Gandalf, who laid him down gently by the campfire. Once he was lying stretched upon the ground, with his head resting upon Glorfindel's pack, he was able to breathe easier, even if he still did gasp and wheeze periodically, and his color improved. Still, Elrond knew that the long journey back to Rivendell would have to be postponed.

"We must build a litter and convey him at once to Isengard," declared Elrond. "He will need to rest for several days."

"Aye," agreed Glorfindel, "and even had he no need to rest, we should go there until I have had an opportunity to scout this region to determine the full extent of the danger that we will face on our return journey. It may be necessary to return through Dunland rather than retrace our steps through the Misty Mountains."

Anomen had no voice with which to protest a removal to Orthanc, and even if he had, he would have been ignored. The adults were in accord. They wanted to bring Anomen safe within the Ring of Isengard, where he would be both protected from foes and sheltered from the elements.

Glorfindel stood guard by Anomen while Gandalf and Elrond gathered vines and branches for a litter and set about constructing it. Gandalf proved to have a hitherto unheralded talent for tying knots, and before too long a serviceable stretcher was ready for the injured elfling. With the task of bearing Anomen rotating among three stretcher-bearers, they made good speed toward Isengard.

At about this time, an impatient Saruman had drawn the cover from the Palantír in order to check on the progress of the half-goblins who were searching for Anomen. To his shock, he saw that the elfling was indeed being brought to Isengard, but by two Elves and a wizard. Hastily he summoned a servant.

"Two Elves, a wizard, and an elfling will soon arrive at Isengard. All my Man-servants must come on duty at once, regardless of whether it is their watch, and all the half-goblins are to retire to the caverns and remain there until these strangers have departed. Likewise, pen and muzzle the wargs. I do not want any snarling and howling heard within the Ring of Isengard!"

The servant scuttled off to relay his orders. He was a half-goblin himself, so he was pleased that he would have nothing to do but loll about in the caverns for several days. Saruman's Man-servants were not so happy, but, for all their grumbling, they hurried to fulfill their master's commands. They knew all too well what happened to those who failed to obey him or to do so promptly. The wargs had dined quite well at the expense of Men who had incurred the wizard's displeasure, and it was rumored that the half-goblins were not above making a meal of Men, near kin though they were.

By the time Anomen and his rescuers arrived at Isengard, all posts were manned by, well, they were manned by Men. They were not the most prepossessing specimens of Men, of course, but what mattered was that the visitors would spy no servants who reminded them of the half-goblins who had attacked them.

Saruman had come down to the base of Orthanc to greet his visitors, and he made a great show of concern over Anomen.

"Is this not the little elfling who visited me as he journeyed toward Imladris? Ah, I feared he might come to harm, and I desired him to remain at Orthanc. Would that he had!"

Actually, some of his concern was genuine. Anomen as a tool would be the less useful if he were 'damaged'. Saruman also viewed Anomen as rightfully 'his' and was resentful of the fact that he was being delivered to him in less than perfect condition.

Glorfindel found himself bridling at Saruman's words, for he felt that the wizard implied that Elrond had failed in his duty. Woe to anyone, wizard or no, who disparaged the Lord of Imladris in the hearing of Glorfindel the balrog-slayer!

After escorting the visitors into Orthanc, Saruman gave orders that chambers be prepared for each of his guests, but, to his dismay, Elrond and Gandalf insisted on being housed with Anomen. Although Saruman assured them that the elfling would be well looked after, they declined his every offer of separate rooms.

"We should not like to be parted from him so soon after recovering him," Elrond told Saruman.

"But you and Mithrandir both look very weary. Should you not rest?"

"We will take turns resting alongside him," replied Elrond. "Would you be so kind as to order that a pallet be placed on the floor by his bed?"

Saruman could do nothing but force himself to smile and command that Elrond and Gandalf be accommodated as they wished. Only Glorfindel would not share their quarters, and that merely because he would be departing and returning at odd hours on scouting missions and did not wish his comings and goings to disturb Anomen.

For a fortnight Anomen rested and recovered his strength, and all this time Gandalf and Elrond, by remaining at his side, were unwittingly protecting the elfling from the machinations of Saruman. How the Lord of Isengard longed for an opportunity to get Anomen alone so that he could work upon him with his honeyed but poisonous voice! The wizard had to console himself with the belief that he would be able to contrive some way of keeping Anomen at Orthanc, which would then afford him with ample opportunity to seduce the youngling. He had been able to ascertain that, yes, Anomen had run away from Rivendell, and he was sure that he could put this information to good use when the time drew near for Elrond and the others to depart.

At length Elrond deemed that Anomen was well enough to arise and spend some time each day exercising his muscles in order to begin recovering his stamina. Saruman had reluctantly agreed to furnish them with horses, and he knew that he had to act quickly now, for they were likely to depart the sooner since Anomen would not need to make the return to Imladris on foot. Anomen and his guardians were now joining Saruman for meals, and one night Saruman commenced his campaign, addressing the elfling in a gentle voice, his face full of concern.

"I am indeed sorry, Anomen, that living in Imladris did not suit you. You must have been dreadfully unhappy to run off into the wild. It is truly a pity that it should have come to that. But do not fear, young one: measures shall be taken for your comfort and happiness. Imladris was never the only refuge open to you. You have come now to Isengard, where you have discovered that you are very welcome—yes, very welcome, indeed!"

Elrond and Glorfindel and Gandalf all opened their mouths to protest, but Anomen was quicker.

"But I want to go back to Rivendell!" exclaimed Anomen.

"You have just fled from Imladris," said Saruman smoothly. "You must have had a reason for doing so."

"Because I wanted to stay there!"

"Anomen, that is hardly logical," said Saruman.

"Actually," Elrond interjected, "that is very logical. For an elfling," he hastily added at the look of disbelief that crossed Saruman's face.

"Elrond makes a very interesting point," said Gandalf, "and thereby demonstrates why Anomen had better go back to Rivendell. Elrond understands the peculiar logic of an elfling because he has been raising three of his own. My Lord Saruman, you are wise, but you must concede that you are not familiar with the ways of the young."

Saruman wanted to sneer that Elrond would no doubt understand the thinking of an elfling because he was as foolish as one. He of course had to deny himself that pleasure.

"Are you suggesting, Mithrandir," he said icily, "that I would be incapable of divining the thought processes of an elfling?"

"Not at all," replied Gandalf mildly. "But it is not so much a matter of 'divining' those processes as of being in sympathy with the youngling who is indulging in those thoughts."

"Hah!" thought Glorfindel. "Mithrandir has him there. Saruman could no more sympathize with an elfling than a snake could sympathize with the nestling he is about to swallow."

"Indeed," Gandalf continued, unaware of the full extent of Saruman's anger, "it might even be more accurate to say that empathy is required, and, as you have never been an elfling, you may have difficulty there."

"Better and better," gloated Glorfindel.

"I suppose you think that _you_ have this empathy?" said Saruman, his face a stony mask.

"I have made no such claim," replied Gandalf. "Moreover, Anomen will not be dwelling with _me_, but with Elrond." Privately, however, he was thinking that, yes, he did have that empathy, although he knew not how he came by it. Elrond and Glorfindel were of the same opinion. However, as Gandalf had no home to offer Anomen, there was no point in arguing the matter. Saruman, though, was not ready to let the matter drop.

"You do not make that claim in speech, yet you seem to think yourself entitled to have a hand in this elfling's upbringing."

"As he dwells at Rivendell, and I frequent that place, it is inevitable that I should have somewhat to do with his upbringing. Moreover," continued Gandalf, who was now nettled by Saruman's words, "perhaps in some ways I am more suited to deal with an elfling than such a grand wizard as you be. We have different gifts, you and I."

"Thank heavens for that!" thought Saruman.

At this moment, one of Saruman's servants came to the door and waited to be recognized. At last Saruman noticed him and waved him forward.

"My Lord, the Lady Galadriel of Lothlórien is without and requests an audience with you."

Saruman was startled, as were they all.

"The Lady Galadriel!"

"Yes, my Lord."

"I wasn't expecting—how came she—um, well, admit her, you fool!"

"This is _too_ delightful for words," Glorfindel exulted to himself. "The eloquence of Saruman reduced to dithering!" The balrog-slayer had thought his immortal life would be far too short to afford him the opportunity to witness Saruman discomfited. It seems he had been mistaken.

As for Saruman, he was mightily distressed. He had long known that some force prevented him using his Palantír to see past the borders of any of the elven realms. Now it had also proved possible for an Elf, at least a powerful one, to cloak his or her movements even outside the kingdoms of the Fair Folk. For he had looked in the Seeing Stone several times over the past two weeks and had never perceived the approach of the Lady of Lórien. Her presence, he knew, would greatly complicate matters. Saruman was well aware that Galadriel mistrusted him, preferring instead to consult Mithrandir in all matters.

Something else about the arrival of Galadriel bothered Saruman greatly. Elrond, Mithrandir, Glorfindel, and now Galadriel. For all intents and purposes, Saruman had on his hands a full blown Council. He suspected at once that Galadriel, like the others, was here on account of Anomen. But who _was_ this elfling that so many of the Great should trouble themselves over him? He had to be of some importance. Perhaps he was descended from an Elf of great eminence. Perhaps he had unusual abilities. Whatever the reason, Saruman was more eager than ever to possess him, even though the presence of Galadriel made that goal more difficult to achieve. Apparently the elfling must be worth the trouble.

The Lady of Lothlórien glided into the room, and all arose to respectfully bid her welcome. Saruman prayed that she would take a seat, and, once she had done so, the others resumed their own seats, although Anomen sat on the edge of his. Galadriel addressed him first.

"Anomen, I am glad to see you looking well. You have given us a great fright. We all shall be happy when you are once again safe in Elrond's Hall, and I hope you are not so hasty as to run off in the future. Go to Elrond when you are distressed, and do not hide yourself in a tree, however friendly he may be!"

Saruman spoke before the elfling had a chance to reply.

"My Lady, it is not at all certain that Anomen will return to Imladris. Before your arrival, we had been considering whether the young one ought to remain safely in Orthanc."

Anomen had listened quietly as the adults had discussed his future, but now he could bear it no longer.

"I'll run away from here," cried Anomen. "I'll run away! You know I will."

"That is enough," said Elrond sternly, who, although he had no intention of handing Anomen over to Saruman, did not wish him to be impertinent. "It is not for you to decide where you will live, as you are not of age and will not be so for centuries. You will stay where you are put."

"I won't," declared Anomen fiercely. "You can't make me."

Saruman was thinking to himself that _he _could contrive to make Anomen stay put, but of course he did not utter that thought aloud. Instead, he spoke with great gentleness.

"Elrond," he chided, "you must not threaten the little fellow. That is no way to win his affection. _I _should not treat him so."

Unbeknownst to Saruman, Glorfindel was glaring at him. "The very idea," he thought indignantly, "of that wretched wizard telling us how to win Anomen's affection!"

Elrond was thinking along similar lines, but he did not let his thoughts show on his face.

"Glorfindel," Galadriel now suggested, "why don't you take Anomen for a walk about the Ring of Isengard."

Anomen became thoroughly alarmed.

"You want me out of the way," he cried, "so you can dispose of me as you wish!"

Galadriel did him the courtesy of speaking honestly.

"I want you out of the way," she said, "so that I can speak frankly to your elders."

She took his chin in her hand and looked into his blue eyes with her own piercing ones.

"I did not constrain you to remain in Lothlórien," she said softly so that only he could hear. "I would not then see you trammeled like a wild bird in a cage. Will you not trust me now?"

Reassured, Anomen permitted himself to be led away by Glorfindel. That Elf, however, was very sorry to depart the chamber, for he suspected that the Lord of Isengard was about to receive his comeuppance at the hands of Galadriel, and he would have loved to have stayed for it.

Once Anomen was gone, Galadriel began innocently enough.

"My Lord Saruman, your concern for the elfling is commendable, but I fear that your great responsibilities would prevent you from lavishing upon him the attention that he is in such great need of."

"Apparently," Saruman replied acerbically, "the same could be said of the Lord Elrond. _I _have never lost an elfling!"

"Because you have never had one to lose," snapped Elrond, his patience worn thin.

"There is no need to quarrel," interjected Galadriel, "as we all have the elfling's interests at heart. Is that not the case, Lord Saruman?"

"Of course," he said lamely, suspecting that he was about to be led into a trap.

"Now, I am not only a parent but a grandparent. In this room, none but I can make that claim, is that not so?"

All had to concede the truth of this assertion. Had Glorfindel been in the room, they would not have been quite so certain, for the balrog-slayer's amatory prowess was legendary. However, as he was not in the room to give an account of himself, they did not have to trouble themselves over the question. Thus Galadriel was able to proceed.

"Since I am both a parent and a grandparent, I have more experience with younglings than anyone here. Is that not also true?"

None could gainsay her.

"Younglings," she began to itemize, "need shelter, which is available both in Isengard and Imladris. They need nourishing food, of which there is an abundance in both places. They need books, and there is no lack of _those_ in either Orthanc or the Hall. They need supervision, and there are adults on hand in both Isengard and Imladris to provide it."

Saruman began to wonder if he had misjudged the Lady of Lórien. So far she had said nothing to suggest that Orthanc would not be as appropriate a place to raise an elfling as Rivendell. Soon, however, he had reason to dislike her as much as ever.

"They need affection," Galadriel continued, "a love freely given without ulterior motives or hope of return."

It escaped the notice of no one that she did not say whether or not she felt such love was to found in both Orthanc and Imladris.

"Finally," she said, "younglings need the company of other younglings. An elfling cannot be raised in isolation."

The trap had been sprung, crushing within its teeth Saruman's hopes for pinioning Anomen within the walls of Orthanc. All the visitors knew—or thought they did!—that no younglings dwelt at Isengard. Saruman knew otherwise, but he could not very well parade a string of infant half-goblins before his guests. Nor was he inclined to display the first primitive Uruk-hai that had recently hatched. These creatures would hardly be viewed as appropriate playmates for an elfling such as Anomen.

Having carried the field, Galadriel smiled sweetly at all and sundry.

"I hope my grandmotherly wisdom has served to solve the conundrum of where Anomen ought to dwell."

Elrond beamed.

"My Lady, thank you for sharing your great knowledge of younglings," he said cheerfully.

"Far be it from me," said Saruman stiffly, "to question your wisdom in a matter such as this."

As for Gandalf, he sent a wink her way when Saruman was not looking.

A month later, Anomen, Gandalf, Elrond, and Glorfindel rode through the gates of Rivendell, Galadriel having parted from them a fortnight earlier in order to cross back to Lothlórien. Elladan raced out of the Hall to greet them. Elrohir hung back, for he feared that Anomen had not forgiven him for the unkind words he had spoken. Anomen, however, inquired after him eagerly. He had not forgotten the vision he had had of Elrohir's face in the pool of rainwater. Soon all three elflings were laughing and racing on the greensward.

The elders left the elflings at play for the remainder of the day, but that night, at the evening meal, Elrond gently but firmly told Anomen that the morrow would be no holiday.

"Erestor tells me that, whilst you have been out roaming the wild, Elrohir and Elladan have made steady progress in their studies."

"I said '_reasonably_ steady progress'," Erestor interjected, with a sharp look at Elrohir.

Elrond smiled and continued.

"I do not expect you to catch up with them in a day, but catch up you will."

"Yes, Lord Elrond," Anomen said meekly. Anxiously he awaited Elrond's further words. What was it to be this time? Scouring all the cauldrons in the kitchen? Oiling the leather of every scabbard in the armory? But Elrond remained silent.

Erestor, however, had somewhat to say.

"I hope you know," this worthy tutor said severely, "that if you were a man-child and lived amongst Men, then your foster-father would demonstrate his relief at your escape from danger by giving you a severe beating."

"Yes, Lord Erestor," replied Anomen humbly.

"Of course," added Erestor, his manner softening, "I have always thought that custom to be one of the more peculiar of the mannish traditions—although, mind you, _all_ of their customs are quite strange. In any event, I much prefer the elven manner of showing joy at the return of a lost youngling."

With that, to the astonishment of all, the tutor took Anomen's face between his hands and kissed him upon the forehead. Then he released him and surveyed him with satisfaction.

"There now," he said triumphantly, "I hope that you have learned your lesson."

"Yes," Anomen said thoughtfully. "Yes, I believe I have."

While they had been talking, a beaming Head Cook had chosen that moment to slip onto Anomen's plate a dish of custard heaped with cream. As an indulgent Elrond conveniently looked the other way, a very relieved and grateful elfling turned his attention to this treat, demolishing it in such a fashion as would have done a Troll proud. Even Erestor decided to overlook this lapse in manners, so glad were they all to have Anomen back safe amongst them. Glorfindel cleared his throat.

"He's still much too thin. Cook, see that you give him custard more often!"

At that, Elrond did raise his eyebrows, but Gandalf quickly sent a wink his way, and the elf-lord allowed those remarkable features to reassume their usual position above his eyes. Gandalf idly thought for a minute how interesting it would be to deprive Elrond of his eyebrows for a time in order to see how he made out, but he quickly abandoned the idea.

"No doubt," he thought to himself, "Elrohir and Elladan will accomplish the feat someday; no need for me to have a hand in it!"

Thus, blissfully unaware of the peril in which his facial hair had stood, the Lord of Imladris happily surveyed his reunited family. Would that such bliss had been destined to endure always! But such is never the case, no, not even in the life of an immortal Elf.


End file.
